At Last
by Ken Giovanni
Summary: What it must be to feel trapped in a world where you do not belong? What it mus be to feel free of it all.


**At Last by K.A. Giovanni, inspired by Etta James**

Weiss sat at the bar staring down into her drink. The deep maple liquid dancing around the spherical ice cube like miniscule currents. She downed the last of her beverage then requested a new glass.

"Weiss...I think you've had enough," Said the blonde behind the bar.

"Funny, you're always the one who enables my vices," Weiss spoke with an overtly irritated tone.

"I mean it, pickling your brain in alcohol won't do you any good,"

"What if I don't care?" Weiss shot her a scathing glare.

"But you do care…"

"I'm saying _ **I don't**_. Now pour my _**goddamn drink**_ ," Weiss glared at Yang, malice leaking from her words like venom from fangs.

"You're drinking because you _**do care**_! So don't tell me you don't!" Yang slammed her fist on the bar in frustration.

"If I wanted to sit down and get lectured I would have goneto Blake. I came here to have a drink or five," Weiss calmly stood from her stool and gathered her coat and purse.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Yang called after her.

"Anywhere but here," Weiss took a hundred dollar bill and crumpled it, "Here, keep the change," Weiss flicked the crumpled bill into the garbage can nearest the exit and left.

That night after leaving Yang's bar, Weiss made a stop at every single bar she came across. Getting cut off by the bartender at every single one and eventually being forcefully removed by security for overly aggressive behavior. She didn't care.

By that point she was so far gone. The last of her coherence and dignity left behind some number of drinks ago at some previous unnamable bar.

Banned from almost every bar within the downtown area, Weiss walked on. To where? She didn't have an answer for that. She didn't care.

As she trudged through the icy sidewalk fatigue started to work it's way into her bones, her vision began to black, her skin felt numb against the cold December wind. Weiss collapsed face first onto the snowy pavement. Breathing shallow and

The open window let the afternoon breeze into the room, making the linen curtains dance as muted sunshine filtered through them. The sound of midday traffic floated in and mixed with the music coming from a small radio on the bedside table.

 _Rhapsody in Blue/At Last_

Weiss lay on a simple queen size mattress and boxspring, her body splayed out till her limbs were almost touching the edges of the bed.

 _What music to wake up to, isn't it Weiss?_

Weiss slowly opened her eyes, half expecting him to be there laying beside her. Alas, the space next to her was how it had been. Cold. Empty. Missing...something….someone. She was alone.

Before she could wallow in her misery any further, the sudden need to puke came over Weiss, brutally punctuated by a split headache.

She ran towards her bathroom, hands covering her mouth, trying to keep the contents of her stomach from spilling out onto the hardwood floor.

She kneeled on the white tile with her head stuck into the toilet, not caring if strands of hair fell into the bowl. Her stomach wrenched and writhed, desperately trying to expel the poison her liver couldn't process.

It felt as if her head was in a vice. Ready to split open if the right amount of pressure was applied.

 _5 Years ago…_

" _You can't expect me to marry that brute!" Weiss yelled at the top of her lungs, "He's a vile, womanizing, egotisti-"_

 _A loud crack sounded and echoed inside the study._

 _Weiss reeled and clutched her cheek ash she fell to her knees._

" _You WILL marry that vile excuse of a man because he's good for business," Her father boomed, visibly seething, "Leave, I've had enough of you,"  
_

 _Weiss stood, very much shaken. She turned around and walked towards the door._

" _Make sure you cover that up for the banquet tonight. I don't the dinner guests talking," Her father said without looking up from his paperwork._

" _Yes father…" Weiss turned the doorknob and walked out._

 _By the time evening came, Weiss was stilled huddled in a corner of her room, clutching her knees to her chest. Eyes still red and puffy, she stood, walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower._

 _Weiss stuck her head under the shower, hissing as the cold water touched the bruise on her face._

A Tempo…

Weiss rose and bent over the sink. She turned the faucet and rinsed the taste of bile from her mouth.

She exited her bedroom to be greeted by the sound of Etta James and the smell of frying bacon.

Weiss walked towards the kitchen and living area to find a familiar mane of blonde hair standing in front of her stove.

"Turn that off please,"

"Aspirin and water on the table," Yang replied

"Yang, turn that off please…" Weiss said, trying to keep her voice from breaking.

"What? I thought you liked this stati-"

"Please!" Weiss begged, trying but failing to stop the tears welling in her eyes, "Yang…turn it off…"

 _3 Months After The Wedding..._

 _Cardin heaved a deep sigh, finishing his signature on a piece of stationary._

 _The windows were open, allowing a light breeze to carry in the smell of winter. The sun shone, slowly liberating the roads of ice, warming the otherwise cold morning._

 _Cardin opened a simple wooden cigar box that lay on his des. He retrieved from in a lighter, and ashtray, and a cigarette. The first one of the day._

 _He walked away from his desk to a mahogany shelf filled from floor to ceiling with old vinyl records. Brushing his fingers along one of the shelves, he spots a record that catches his fancy and pulls it from its place._

 _With Etta James playing in a corner, he lights his cigarette and takes a seat._

 _He savored every drag. The smell, the taste, the slight burning sensation as the smoke entered his lungs, the rush of nicotine straight to his dopamine receptors._

 _Cardin then opened the bottom drawer of his desk and produced a glass and a decanter of whiskey. He poured himself a double and replaced the decanter._

 _It was a wonderful vintage. 1964. Funnily enough this was the year of the first surgeon general warning against smoking. The civil rights act as ratified and Martin Luther King Jr. was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize._

 _He relished every sip. Slight notes of citrus and apricot, a bit of spice on the swallow, and a long, sweet ending note._

 _Finishing his whiskey, he then opens the middle drawer._

 _An ornate Colt Single Action Army, his great grandfather's, sat on a red velvet lining. It was a beautiful pistol. So simple, so rugged, but elegant. An implement of war and a work of art._

 _He unloads all six cylinders onto his desk. Each brass shell falling with an audible thunk, slightly denting the wood surface. He picks one from the pile and inspects it. There were fine scratches along the casing but otherwise it was functional. The lead bullet was seated properly in the neck of the brass, the primer was unscathed and firmly sat in it's place, and the powder load did not seem stale._

 _Cardin loads the cartridge into the first cylinder and rotates it._

 _He cocked the hammer back and firmly pressed the gun against his temple._

 _Cardin pulls the trigger._

A Tempo…

Yang sat snuggly in an armchair beside Weiss' bed. Her head resting on one of the bolsters, snoring lightly as she slept.

Weiss lay awake staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

She sat up and reached out to her bedside table.

Hands trembling, she opened the drawer and retrieved an orange bottle of pills.

 _That Same Morning…_

 _Weiss stood in the doorway of Cardin's study, horrified by the events that had just transpired in front of her._

" _Why…?" Weiss said, barely able to speak._

 _Cardin let the pistol drop to the floor and turned towards Weiss._

 _He sobbed, uncontrollably._

" _Why should I live in a world where my wife hates me, my father would kill me, and society would ostracize me all because I loved a man?" Cardin replied without looking up._

 _Weiss felt her knees nearly buckle, her chest constricted, not out of rage, but of heartbreak. Of sympathy. Of love._

 _She approached Cardin and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his neck._

" _Shhh...shh...It's okay...I understand…" Weiss cried into his shoulder._

" _How can you?" Cardin questioned, breaking out into fresh tears._

" _Because I loved a woman,"_

A Tempo…

Weiss threw the bottle of pills against the far wall, waking Yang up.

"Wiess, are you okay?" Yang rushed to her side, wrapping an arm around her.

"No...no I'm not...it hurts Yang...it hurts so much…" Weiss cried, shuddering as her chest constricted around her heart.

"Shh...it's okay snow princess, it's okay," Yang rested her head against Weiss' should and rubbed her back.

After a while the tears had stopped, the convulsing subsided, and her breathing eased once more.

"I miss him so much, Yang…" Weiss whispered, turning her head towards the blonde who now lay beside her.

"I know, snow princess, I know…" Yang wiped a stray tear from Weiss' face, "You need to get some rest, you look overspent…"


End file.
